


Defining Home

by daughterofalderaan



Category: Ted Lasso (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Housemates, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28605627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daughterofalderaan/pseuds/daughterofalderaan
Summary: And they were quarantinematesOh my god they were quarantinematesOR: Rebecca has an unprecedented idea for unprecedented times.
Relationships: Ted Lasso/Rebecca Welton
Comments: 25
Kudos: 76





	1. The Proposition

Novelties become mundane if you let them be. If a year passes you by, there are things you get used to over its course—for instance, cars coming from the right before they come from the left on a two-way street. Payment being expected _before_ you sit down and start eating your cheese pizza. The sound and feel of nine million others scuttling about their lives around you.

Ted had grown accustomed to it—London's friendly hum. Horns honking, cyclists blasting funky beats up the road, folks exercising their outside voices outside his living room window. Sure, it quietened in the early morning hours, but there was always a thrum. The city had a pulse that he could count on.

March was fog. It rolled in slowly, but once you were in it, boy, were you in it. 

At the beginning of the month, AFC Richmond was still going through all the regular motions. Suddenly, traffic thinned out, and unsurety accelerated. The league announced they'd play behind closed doors; no screaming fans in the stands. The day before their scheduled match against Burnley, they were briefed on the new national lockdown and prepared to break. 

The city's heartbeat decelerated and allowed silence to reign. The blood pumping through Ted's own head grew louder to compensate.

Usually, the grassy common across the street had people using the space or passing through it at any hour of the day. There were adults pushing strollers in the daylight and teenagers starting fires on the grass at 2AM (okay, it was only one time but still a big Once). Now, Ted could walk across it and be the only person on the whole lawn.

Even in broad daylight, he could hear his footsteps echo on the paved court. There weren't even any pigeons at the north end of the pedestrian way because the guy who always fed them stopped coming by. It was weird—everything, not just the pigeon disappearance.

It was seven days into lockdown, and Ted was _bursting_. With a lot of different things.

In any circumstance, living alone was not the vibe. However, it was more manageable when the earth was still spinning. He usually used his apartment as a place to sleep and cook and spent the rest of his time on the job, meeting new people, keeping up the camaraderie with those he knew. 

Everybody needs time in their day to process, reflect, think. Having the entire day to do those things was what might be called a _real freakin' overabundance of thoughts_. 

One night, he woke up at 4AM, laden with energy, and got up to do jumping jacks to tire himself out. Yeah, maybe he was jumping out of his skin, just a little.

At least he had his cell phone. It was good that this wasn't the mid-2000s, and he didn't have a _BFF, Jill_ , because he'd never texted so much in his life. Friends, family, staff, the team, nobody was left un-texted.

He spent time acquainting himself with the technological advances that had happened when he wasn't looking. Remote work planning software and video chatting services that let you make your head look like a pineapple. 

It all only got you so far, though, communicating through a screen. Words don't give you the full scope of a person (unless it's a Jane Austen novel. Then you're pretty much covered). 

One person who went against the grain by becoming less digitally accessible was Rebecca. She was so bogged down from the constant reassessing that needed to be done and the meetings she had to sit that Higgins had implemented a system for "requesting" appointments from her. It sure was a contrast from the ease of being able to pop upstairs to give her a quick hello. 

He'd been in group meetings with her mainly where she told everyone that the news of the day was that there was no news, and explained all of the facets of the ways there was no news, and how best to plan for every aspect of the club in their present…lack of news.

That day was their first one-on-one meeting since going full WFH. 

Rebecca's face popped up on his laptop screen and greeted him. She was sitting in her home office, looking impeccably put together, as always.

"Dang, wearing a blazer in your own home? Now that outta be a sin!" said Ted

She shrugged. "Yes, well." 

"And here I am, lounging on my couch, wearing—" he looked down to assess exactly what he was wearing. "—pizza print P.J.s."

"Ah!" she said, "but not all of me is in the frame." She scooted back into her seat and lifted a leg up. 

His screen was overtaken by a fluffy unicorn slipper.

"Wow, first off, how are you so flexible? I couldn't even try to get my leg in that position. No hands, wow! Wait, could I--No, never mind. Second: that's real heckin' cute. Does that fellow have a name?"

She put her foot back down and shifted to sit comfortably again. "No, but why do I get the feeling you've come up with one?"

"Arnie."

"There's one on the other foot too."

"Annie."

"Inspired," she deadpanned. "So, how have you been holding up?" 

"Is watching Frasier for so many hours in a row that David Hyde Pierce has started feeling like a real friend an answer?"

"Oof," she winced.

"There are positives to being locked away from the world. I've been given a chance to use out a whole jar of mayo for once without it going rancid. Not that I've finished it yet, but I feel like there's an opportunity here to put things right. And I filed for this year's U.S. taxes. You know we still have to file those even if we're abroad? I had no idea; I got fined last year."

"No, no I did not know that. But I'd have thought you'd be having more difficulty with the whole being away from the general public thing."

"Alright, you got me. If Beard hadn't just moved in with Jane, I would've finagled him into becoming my roomie for the time being because—yeesh, it ain't easy. Anyway, how's lockdown been treating _you_?"

"It's not…ideal. It sounded better in my head, strangers having to steer clear of you in public and not having to deal with imbeciles on the road. But being in here all day, nobody else around… "

"Times like these, it makes you understand just what a place human connection has in our daily lives."

"Mmm. I think I'm also suffering from biscuit withdrawal."

"You know what, I could make some for you, swing by and drop some off at your door." 

"Oh, would you?"

"Sure thing! Where do you live, anyway?"

"I'm over in North Twickenham."  
  
"Twickenham?! I thought you live in Richmond."

"I do liv—Ted, I'm in the _borough_ of Richmond."

"And you're gonna tell me that the 'Borough of Richmond' is here in the town of Richmond, but it's also over across the river and then some?"

"Yes, that's what I'm telling you."

"Well, I never knew."

"You probably should've known that by now."

"So then…" he tried to secure his mental map. "When you go home from work, you cross over the bridge?"

"Yes, I cross the bridge."  


"Well, whaddaya know."

"Ted, what if…"

"Man, if that's true, then what else don't I know? "He started rambling on about his grievances against London geography before his mind processed that she had been starting to say something. "Sorry, wait, what were you about to say?"

"No, oh, nothing."

"Nah, you were saying something and I interrupted!.

"I just thought—

"What? Your voice got all audio-pixelated there for a moment."

"Is it better now?"

"Yeah, you're good to go."

She took a breath. "I thought maybe you'd want to quarantine together? It'd make this whole thing feel a little less insane, having another person around. You seem to be ricocheting off the walls of your flat, and I'm just—I'm just here. Say no if you don't want to, really do, don't say yes just because I asked." She bit her bottom lip as she awaited his response.

"Now that's an idea! So you over at my place or me at yours?"

Rebecca raised a brow.

Ted immediately answered his own question. "Me at yours. So, I'll just head on over to South Twickenham an—"

"North."

He restarted. "I'll head on over to north Twickenham—Gosh, all these 'ham' places all over the place. Tell me, why's it pronounced "hmm" for places like Twickenham, or say, Lewisham, but it's 'ammm' for 'West Ham.' Also, something that won't leave my head lately: since you English folk call it 'The States' whenever you head over to the U.S., what if Americans called it 'The Kingdom' for the U.K.? Like, oh yeah, I'm heading over to The Kingdom for vacation next week—"

"Ted," she interrupted, "I'm getting an incoming call from sales. We'll talk in a bit, okay?"

"Sure thing." He gave her a wave just before the meeting disconnected.

A couple hours later, Rebecca called him on the phone.

"Are you sure about this, Ted?" she asked without preamble.

"I'm all for it so long as you are."

"My concern is the press, actually. If they get wind of us staying in the same house, well, you know. They find ways to be abhorrent."

"If you're concerned about that, we can call it off."

"I'm more worried about them coming after _you_ for every and any insignificant detail."

"Those crazy kids have been trying to get to me this whole run. Anyway, hopefully, it'll just be a few weeks, and then the world can get back to normal."

"Alright," Rebecca agreed. His phone pinged when she texted him her address.

Once Ted had stepped outside and locked the door behind him, he realized he didn't know where he'd last parked his car. This was the longest he'd been without driving since—well, he couldn't even remember. He found it eventually, but the finding took longer than the driving. It sure was weird hitting all greens and knowing that it should've been rush hour madness. 

Mainly, he was excited to be around a real human being. He pulled up outside the building his GPS told him was Rebecca’s house, hauled his duffle bag over his shoulder, walked past her manicured shrubs, and rang the bell.

When Rebecca unlocked the door, she was still chewing on what presumably was her dinner.

"I'm here to see a—" he pretended to unfurl a piece of paper and read off of it “— a ‘Ms. Welton," he said.

"It's good to see you, Ted." She held open the door to let him in.

Ted let out a whistle when he entered. "This place is _nice_."

"Thank you, I built it myself.

"Did you?"

"No."

Ted deposited his bag in the corner and took off his sneakers. "It's great to see a real human up close, in the flesh. Though, with technology these days, you can never be 100% sure that someone you know is not a hologram."

"I promise I'm not a hologram."

"Sounds like something a hologram would say."

Rebecca gave him a quick tour, showing him how her fancy modern stove worked before bringing him upstairs. "You can choose which guest room you want."

He peered into one and then into the other. "That one has a purple color scheme, which as you know is my all-time favorite color, but in this one—" his head was stuck past the doorway "—the blankets look cozier, so it's a toss-up."

"You can just move the bedding into the other room."

He slapped his hands together, hard, making her jump slightly. "Now that's what I'm talking about!"

"You'll be the first to occupy it. These rooms have been… pathetically underutilized since I moved in."

"Well, I'm honored."

"I don't currently have a spare set of keys. I'll get that done tomorrow, around..." She looked like she was mentally paging through her calendar. "Well, sometime tomorrow. Otherwise, make yourself at home."

"Great! I'll bring up my stuff." He made a move to head down the stairs.

"Oh, and Ted?"

"Yep." He turned to give her his attention.

"Let's just keep it between us." She pointed to him and twirled her finger to indicate their surroundings. "The whole quarantining together thing." 

"I gotcha."

"Right, well, make yourself at home for the time being, and hopefully, this will all be over soon." A sly grin appeared on her face. "You can earn your lodging via baked goods."

"That's a deal I'll gladly accept. Besides, I'm kinda stuck here, anyway."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, funny story. After I parked just now, I got a nagging feeling, like I'd left something at home. I thought maybe I’d left one of my credit cards on the kitchen counter or something like that. So, I took out my wallet and—" he reached into his pocket for his wallet and pulled out his driver's license. He flipped the I.D. so the side with "KANSAS" in big blue letters was facing her. “Check out that expiration date.”

She leaned in closer and squinted to read the small print. "Expires in…June?"

"American dates."

"Expired… two weeks ago," she amended.

"Oops," he said.

"Ted!"

“It’s not fair that these things last a whole decade and then they’re just obsolete all of the sudden! And also, when I moved here, I thought _driving is driving_ , right? Then, last week, Beard showed me his fancy new U.K. I.D., and that's how I found out that once you've resided her for a year, you need to get a brand new license."

“ _Ted_.”

“I was honestly about to start up that whole process of getting a new one!“

"Well," she said, “I guess you can fare without a car. If I need to kick you out because you've burnt my house down or something, I can always call you a taxi." 

"Oh, I wouldn't jinx things by saying that."

Brows furrowed, she said, "You've started a fire in the past?"

"Uhhhhh. Well 'yes' would be the correct answer, but the thing is—"

"Was this a terrible idea?" she said out loud to herself. "This was probably a terrible idea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to [@KnightsofAce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightsofAce) for the concept


	2. Comme d’hab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New roommate, new routines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word so i’ve kept roy in the team and the team in the premier league

"I caught a coelacanth!" exclaimed Ted. He had his elbows rested on the kitchen counter as he waited for his food to finish microwaving.

Rebecca, who was over in the living room, stopped typing. Her gaze darted around. "What's a seal-uh…what?"

"It's a fish!"

She opened her mouth, about to say something, but didn't say anything, so he clarified for her. He held up his video game console so that it was in her sightline. " _Animal Crossing_. According to a reputable fan site, it's the rarest fish in the game."

At last, her brows parted. "Oh, on the Nintendo."

Yes, it was true: he had officially joined the world of hybrid flower breeding and offering dino bones to an entomophobic owl. Most of the team had joined in the shenanigans as well. 

The frenzy began when Sam asked on the team WhatsApp group chat if anyone was playing, and things took off pretty quickly from there. Ted got himself a turquoise Switch and downloaded Animal Crossing. For good measure, he also got _Untitled Goose Game_. Piloting a feathered nuisance whose purpose in life was to torment humans gave him an unreasonable amount of pleasure.

Kyle's town became the go-to hangout; he'd built a football pitch that featured multi-level stadium-style seating. You know what they say: when you can't be around others in the physical realm, the next best option is to congregate virtually. 

This wasn't to say that the team's video gaming experience was _all_ daisies and trumpets. 

The newest recruits, Jerry (a Blackpool native) and Dillard (direct from Iceland) were both young fellas who came on board during the winter transfer window. They'd started off on the wrong foot, and without seeing each other in-the-flesh, Ted had to now adapt his mediation tactics.

Ted found out that Jerry had started up a Twitch account where he streamed himself playing the latest FIFA. Which sounded cool. Until he learned that the username was "DillardFail," and that Jerry was exclusively posting videos of himself purposely using virtual Dillard to lose every match.

Ted had to admit that Jerry had put in an impressive amount of effort into roasting his teammate. However, he had to hold a mandatory meeting on why it was inappropriate to simulate a team member repeatedly kicking the ball into their own net and broadcast it to the internet, even if it was done anonymously. 

This didn't put an end to the overarching spat, but he was working on it. They'd come around to respecting each other, soon enough.

Ted held training every weekday morning, as per usual. 

Only difference was the lack of grass. And they didn't do any of their regular exercises. And they were all in their homes or yards. And had webcams pointed at them. 

Even he, Beard, and Nate joined in on some of it. The coaches were putting extra effort into making the team still feel like a joint unit, especially since nobody had a dang clue when the hiatus would be over. 

Technology helped. 

Throughout this whole being-across-the-pond business, his frequent conversations with Henry had been a lifeline. Nothing in this world as joyous as listening to his son talk his ear off about the Memphis Pyramid or why currency should be abolished.

None of these interactions would've been possible without all their silly phones and computers.

From over in the living room, Ted heard Rebecca close her laptop. She walked over to the fridge and pulled something out that, with all due respect, looked like gourmet barf. Whipping a tablet out of thin air, she sat down at the kitchen table and started typing on its touch screen.

The microwave beeped when his food finished, which was immediately followed by the ding of his phone. He took the plate out, sat down on a stool, and checked his messages.

Henry had texted him a meme. Ted didn't understand what in the heck was going on in the image—he often didn't—but he sent over a laughing face emoji anyway. 

Some of the videos Henry sent him were real knee-slappers, though. It was this thought that in-part led him to declare: "I think I'm gonna start my own TikTok."

Rebecca looked at him, face all blank-like.

"Looks like it's the big thing right now," he added.

Her lip curled up on one side. "Keeley's sent me some of her videos. I have to say, truly, from the depths of my soul: I don't get it."

"Henry's been telling me about some fun stuff happening on there. Apparently, storkwatching is really big right now. Like birdwatching but just…storks! And then there were these kids who stole their dad's car and documented their cross-country escapade. Went from Louisiana to St. Louis or something crazy like that."

Rebecca's fingers started tapping on her screen with superhuman speed. Then, she held up the tablet and turned it around, showing him a page with all the videos those kids posted embedded in.

"That's it!" 

She pressed play, and a girl around nine said, "We are taking direct action—"

The door rang.

"I'll get it!" Ted hopped up and headed for the door.

When Ted stepped outside, the postal worker who must've rung the bell was already onto the next house. He picked up a package for him that was left on the step, and the other mail.

By the time he re-entered the kitchen, Rebecca was watching the last of the underage road trip videos while shoveling her meal into her mouth.

"I cannot fathom how those girls got away with driving that far from home without getting stopped—" Ted handed her some envelopes with her name on them "—oh, thanks."

He then held up a bubble mailer in the air.

"Now, I don't mean to pry, but this thing is addressed to a 'Roquefort Wensleydale,' and I'm assuming that that means you."

Rebecca groaned. "That'll be from Flo."

"Ah." He handed over the mailer. "How's she doing? And Nora?"

"Good, they're fine. Well, considering." Rebecca ripped open the seal and pulled out some kind of tall hardcover book. Opening to the first page, she let out a renewed groan.

"What is it?"

"Literally…" Rebecca flipped through the book. "Horrifying photos of us. Absolute cringefest. Flo looks alright in them, but she appears to have curated all the worst possible images of me she could find."

She turned to the next page. "Ha! That one's funny, actually." She winced upon seeing page after that, though. 

"I was chatting with Nora last week, and let slip that her Flo used to skive off of lessons. Apparently, Nora thought, 'oh, Mum's done it, so I can too.' So she's apparently made the executive decision to drop maths, which is _mandatory_. They're on virtual lessons, and she thought that'd be a good hour to go for a daily nap. The teacher only found out when she forgot to shut off her webcam before going to sleep. I'm sure this lovely _gift_ is a 'Thanks for that, Rebecca."

"Yikes. Henry's been having trouble concentrating with math, too, but he hasn't gone on strike about it."

"I can't believe she went through with the efforts of rounding these all up. Christ, these go back all the way to uni…no, college even." She slammed the book shut.

Ted did a double-take. "And you're saying those things are different?"

"Yes," she said.

The conversation took a segue as Rebecca proceeded to describe the English education system to him while he mentally and physically scratched his head. 

All these different numbers and tests and "forms" to it all. It was simpler where he grew up; everyone went to _one_ school until it was time to go off to college.

"I can't believe I don't have this information stored in my memory bank, but what college—no, university did you go to?"

"Bath."

"Say that again?"

"Bath University."

He squinted. "As in…tub?"

Rebecca laughed. Hard. "No! Wait, actually, yes. In a way?"

"What was your major?"

"Business management."

"Well, whaddaya know! Now you're out here managing a business."

She looked down at the photo book before her on the table and said, "This needs to be burnt."

"Can I see it?"

She put her hand on it. "Certainly not."

"C'mon, it can't be that bad!"

She opened and then immediately shut it again. "Nineties horror story."

"Now you _really_ gotta show me."

She held it out for him to take, looking like she was bracing for impact. 

He took it and opened it right in the middle. 

"Wow!" 

She was in her teens, wearing a nearly eye-stinging amount of color, arm around Sassy, knee bent with her foot up in the air behind her, smiling a huge crinkly-eyed smile. He thought about how an unfiltered smile like that would fit on her face now. Ted glanced up at her, then back down.

None of these photos were unflattering, the way Rebecca was making them out to be. They were just…of a different era. And carefree. 

It was always an enjoyable experience, going through albums like this, catching glimpses of what people were like before he knew them. He was about to ask if she happened to have any baby photos on her when he got to the second-to-last page. His jaw dropped. "Crimped hair!"

"What?! Alright, that's enough." She snatched the book out of his hands.

"Hey, I didn't get to the last page!"

"Aww, really? That's too bad," she said with faux sweetness. She stood up, shoving the book under her arm.

"Oh, hey," he said, remembering the interaction he'd had just five minutes prior. "Wait, this is relevant. You know what Jaspreet just told me outside?"

"Who?" Rebecca asked, scraping the flood remains off her plate into the trash.

"Jaspreet," he offered again.

She turned towards him and wasn't showing any sign of recognition.

"Next-door neighbor?"

"Which direction?"

"Left."

"Facing the house or the road?"

"Uhh. The house. Nice lady, black hair, huge eyes?"

She shook her head. "Don't think I know her, no."

"Well, we were talking—more like yelling—I was at the door, and she was on the sidewalk. She coordinates fashion runway events, and she was talking about how they've all been canceled, obviously, but then she told me that middle parts and low-rise pants are coming back in style." 

"I bloody hope not!" 

"And butterfly clips."

"Now that one's alright." She used the back of her hand to push her hair behind her shoulder. "I don't really know who my neighbors are, honestly. People 'round here mostly keep to themselves."

"Now that's just real wild to me—completely different from how things are done back home."

"And how's that, then?" Rebecca asked. "Lots of other Lasso-types roaming about?" She then typed something out on her phone and set it face down, giving him her attention. 

It put a smile on her face, telling her about it—the best of Kansas. How friendly folks were. The way people you've never met before, and by all probability will never see again, ask you about your day and mean it. Not in a hurry for things that don't need hurrying. More space, less piling up on top of each other out of necessity or by accident. Those sorta things.

"Folks around here still got the same DNA, don't they, but you've gotta ease 'em into being comfortable interacting with a stranger. Otherwise, they act like they think you're about to rob 'em."

She tilted her head in a _Well, That's a Fair Concern_ kind of way.

"I've found that you can build it up here, a sense of community—it's more than possible to create some of that. But back home, it's already built-in; it's part of the blueprint. 

Rebecca nodded along as he spoke.

He continued to ramble on about his home state and its placement in the world. How you don't need to go to New York to get to Manhattan. The way Arkansas doesn't even border Kansas, but Wichita is bisected by the Arkansas River. About how Kansas City is the biggest city in Missouri, but the _Kansan_ Kansas City isn't the biggest city in Kansas; it was back to Wichita on that front. 

"It's funny, the things you get used to and don't even question when you've grown up somewhere," he said. "Maybe that's why big-city natives have trouble digging up reasons why where they're from is special. 

"Too used to it all, perhaps," she said.

•••

Rebecca's worst characteristic was the punctuality with which she brewed a hot cup of tea each and every morning.

Her second worst trait was her intermittent kettle usage throughout the day.

Aside from the constant reminder she gave him of the existence of dirt-colored leaf water, the whole temporarily crashing at her place thing was all good.

In the earliest days, she spent the majority of her time in her home office, working off her desktop computer. She weaned off it a little, opting more to float around in the shared space of the ground floor but, she still took nearly all her meetings upstairs. 

He was actively discovering her Home Mode, which was…well, people were full of all sorts of layers.

At-home Rebecca would finish a phone call, extend her arms out ’til her elbows cracked, and close her eyes for a few seconds before switching tasks. She could be talking shop with him in the living room and she’d sink into the sofa back, head lolled onto her shoulder, one foot tucked underneath her, in a way she wouldn’t have on the couch back in her office at the training center. And at night, after a day’s natural course, her hair's flyaways had the opportunity to live their truth. 

He was real heckin' glad she'd asked him to be her roommate. Especially as it became increasingly apparent that the world wasn't about to just revert back to the way it had been.

Ted had stopped back at his apartment to grab more of his belongings. He retrieved a mishmash of items that included a Henry masterpiece (a drawing of Mothman that he taped to the wall of his guest room), his lucky spatula, and sneakers that didn't have any holes in their soles.

With all the walking he'd been doing, it was essential to have the proper footwear, especially when it rained. Because lately, the pairs he had were starting to make his feet feel like the animals Noah forgot to put on the ark—that guy _couldn't_ have remembered all of 'em.

It was fun, exploring the area's nooks and crannies (hang on! now he got why that store is called Nook's Cranny on Animal Crossing). He tried out different routes and appreciated that there were plenty of spaces where cars weren't allowed. There was an abundance of narrow "public footpaths," which would probably just be called "places to get murdered" back in America. 

After a few weeks, sights around her town became familiar. His mental map of how Rebecca's neighborhood was laid out was getting pretty sturdy. There were even times he didn't need to open up an app on his phone to easily find his way back! 

The way he saw it was like this: you can build up a relationship with a place the same way you can with a person. You've got more memories of it today than you did the previous day. Maybe you'll get splashed from a car going 80 on a residential street, or you'll spot Don Williams standing on the corner, and BAM—you've got an association to that specific location, and those figurative pushpins accumulate on your personal mind map.

He was becoming acquainted with the houseboats on the Thames that seemed to do a lot more housing than boating, and the silver metal gate to someone's home that was always left open a couple of blocks away, and the one-eyed tabby cat who made it abundantly clear that it's her world and they're just living in it.

He liked it when Rebecca was his walking buddy. She didn’t come it if it was raining or pouring or sun showering or hailing (okay, it never did that) or she had a meeting, but otherwise, she was game for it. 

She'd point things out. Once, they were passing a fenced-in house, and she said, "There's an absolute terror of a dog who lives here." The dog promptly popped out from under a shrub, opened its mouth, and screamed at them. Yeah, that was scary.

However, she'd also say, "Oh, I didn't know this was here," even about things just a couple of blocks away from her house. 

Some things, they discovered together. 

The day after the fish-neighbor-nineties ordeal, Rebecca needed to do a curbside pickup from a store a few towns away. Ted tagged along, and they agreed to go on a walk in the area for a change of scenery. 

Steering themselves away from the high street, they found a nice, straightforward walking path. There was curated greenery to the left and a brick wall to the right, which separating them from train tracks. Out in these parts, the London Underground was actually _overground_. Yet, there was a train line called the Overground. These naming conventions really needed some work.

There weren't many others on this path. The occasional jogger overtook them, and a couple of dog walkers passed—though one of them was more of a dog chauffeur, as they were pushing a sleeping dog around in a stroller. 

He first felt it in his feet, when a train was about to whiz past. The rumbles would get stronger until it passed them by, barely visible just over the wall. If he were more of a Henry sort of height, he wouldn't have been able to see them at all.

"I think I miss the Tube," Rebecca said, just after the grey convex roof of a train overtook them. "I never even really—I can't remember the last time I was even on it."

He got that. 

It was all-too-easy to start romanticizing things that were actually just nuisances. Maybe they were missing the _option_ to undergo those nuisances.

Ted was about to say something of the likes to her, but another one of his organs spoke first. Without his permission, his stomach gave a nasty growl. He realized he'd usually have eaten lunch by this time of day.

Rebecca eyed his stomach, then pointed with her thumb towards the direction they came from. "Shall we head back, then?"

They turned and headed back up the path as two trains, coming from opposite directions, rushed past each other. 

•••

He only disclosed to others where he was residing for the time being on a need-to-know basis. Henry, Michelle, Beard, some higher-ups at AFC Richmond, and the post office were the only ones who knew. The team certainly didn't know, and Ted wasn’t expecting, at the end of a Friday morning workout session, to know that anyone knew.

"Colin, I've been monitoring what you're putting into your mouth like you're a pet dog walking up a city street; stop chewing gum while exercising," said Ted.

"Apologies, Gaffs," said Colin. Ted saw him projectile launch it out of his mouth towards an unknowable secondary location. 

"I don't want to have to call 999 for you when that stuff gets lodged in your throat. Alright, I'll see you all on Monday. Stay safe, everyone."

The rectangles that housed everyone's faces started disappearing one at a time and then all at once. Gaz got close to the camera, and Ted could hear him furiously clicking his mouse until he dropped off with the rest of the crowd. 

There was only one left.

"Computer frozen, Roy? Gaz has been having problems with that."

"Are you really going to hide the fact that you're staying at Ms. Welton's?" 

So no frozen computer, then.

"At…" Ted turned around and made a dramatic show of looking around the room. "I don't see anyone here?"

"Cut the bullshit, Lasso."

There wasn't any point in bluffing any longer, but he had no idea how Roy knew. He put his palms out open in front of him, saying, "State your case."

"For starters, that's not your room. You have a massive, horrendous, life-size sock monkey in your actual bedroom.

Ted frowned.

"Your door was open when I was over, that one time. It's hard to miss."

Ted lifted his hands up in surrender on that front. "Okay, you got me there. But how do you know I haven't just set up Mr. Bananaz in my kitchen to keep me company while I break my fast?"

"In that call we had last week, I heard Ms. Welton speaking in the background."

Oh. Damn, okay.

"Well, I gotta give it to you, Roy. That's some great deduction skills you've got there."

"I'm going to tell Keeley."

"Oh. Well, Rebecca wants—"

"If Keeley finds out her 'powerful dynamite boss-friend’—to clarify, that's her words not mine, _if a fucking reporter has this call tapped_."

Well, it couldn't be said the man didn't cover his bases. 

"—has been living with her favorite pun-master of the Western Hemisphere.' Again—"

"Her words, not yours. Wait, who's her favorite of the Eastern?"

"—and I didn't tell her? She'll put poison in my food."

"Where's she getting poison from?" Ted asked.

Roy increased his frown-level to be even frownier, because somehow that was physically possible.

"Alright, I see where you're coming from."

It was at this most opportune moment that point Keeley stepped into the frame. "Okay, so Rebecca and Ted are what?!"

Roy jumped, saying, "I thought you were upstairs?!" Then his rectangle became a—well, a nothing, as the videoconference dropped.

"Oh boy," Ted said to himself.

He skid into the hallway, didn’t know where she was exactly, figured a little Marco Polo couldn’t hurt, and yelled “Hey, Rebecca?” 

A couple of doors away, she stuck her head of of her bedroom.

"Lemme just hit you with an update real quick," he rushed out.

As she stepped out into the hallway, her phone started emitting chimes. Rebecca took it out of her pocket, checked the caller, and said: "Oh, it's Keeley." Before he could stop her, she tapped the screen and held her phone up in front of her face.

"You conniving canary!" he heard Keeley yell in lieu of a greeting.

"Huh?" said Rebecca.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me you're living with Ted!"

"What?" Her face snapped towards Ted, her face asking him three questions at once.

"You're like Harrison Ford pretending he'd never do another Indiana, tricking us all!" Keeley continued. "We were over here thinking you've been all alone this whole time!" 

It sounded like a chair was being moved across the floor, and then Roy's voice said, "I'm not involved!" 

"Roy figured it out," Ted said to Rebecca. He walked over to her to join the conversation, seeing as the cat was out of the bag. 

"Yeah, I _overheard_ Roy telling Ted! Why didn't you say?" Keeley asked Rebecca.

"I didn't want to make it weird, _in the way it's getting right now_. Plus, the public as a whole is wretched. Word gets out, they'll say—you know. Stupid things."

"Oh yeah, I _do_. You should've seen some of the stuff Jamie's stans said when people found out Roy and I were official. Not that that's your situation, like at all, but people are real savages. But wow Rebecca, you could give me magic wand recs last week, but you couldn't tell me 'Oh, you know our good friend, Ted? He's staying with me!"

Ted muttered, "Maybe I'll —, "and made a move to creep away, but Rebecca, without looking away from her phone, held out her hand in a stop motion.

"You're not the greatest at keeping secrets ,” said Rebecca. Keeley started making a contrarian noise, but Rebecca cut back in. "Remember when we saw _Emma_ at the cinema, and you posted a photo on instagram of us crying our mascara off once it was over? And fifty _thousand_ people saw it before you got 'round to deleting it?" she asked Keeley.

"Yeah, but I didn't mean to post it, I'd gotten really fucked up that night when I—okay, sorry, yeah, I see your point."

"Look," said Rebecca. “We were both by ourselves and decided, for sanity’s sake, to not be. It’s not a big deal.”

Keeley nodded her undestanding.

Ted stepped closer to Rebecca to get in the frame. "Dani and Sammy made their own bubble too. We're all trying to make this whole thing a little less lonely."

“Rich fam sticks together!” said Keeley.

At once, Roy and Rebecca said, "Don't call it that," and “Rethink that phrase."

"Anyway, I'm so glad you're both not all alone all day long anymore," said Keeley.

"That's. Kind? Of you?" said Rebecca, strongly inflecting.

"Especially as they're saying now that it could go on for, like, a year."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always im over [on tumblr](https://freetobegrace.tumblr.com/) screeching @ the top of me lungs abt ted lasso every day


End file.
